


Please, Leave

by AlexanderT_Writes



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Mentions of Coma, Mentions of Death, No Fluff, TMA season 4, angry martin, martin snaps, oof ouch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25588243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderT_Writes/pseuds/AlexanderT_Writes
Summary: Martin just wants some damn peace and quiet, and he doesn’t need Jon knocking at his door either.Or:Martin snaps.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker (mentioned), Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	Please, Leave

**Author's Note:**

> I proofread this once so if you find any mistakes feel free to let me know :)  
> This is the first TMA fic I’ve posted (and the first one I’ve finished writing) here, but basically it’s all angst with no resolution. Have fun!

Since Tim’s death, Martin hadn’t been the same. Not only because The Lonely had been drawing him in, or because Jon was in a coma, but just because he felt utter and complete hatred for the world as a whole. This hatred came with a multitude of questions that frequently ran through his mind when he worked in his office. 

Why did he have to fall in love with Jon? Why did he have to look like his father? Why did Tim have to die? Why, why, why? 

Falling in love with Jon was always going to be a problem, even if Elias wasn’t some evil, all-seeing voyeur, and Jon wasn’t currently on the brink of death. Martin hated himself for caring so much about him. Elias had been right; Jon had been snappy with him most of the time, and whenever he _was _nice (which was rare), it was thanking him for bringing him a cup of tea. A mislabelled report was enough to be called a useless ass on a tape that the next unfortunate archivist would have to listen to.  
He never understood why he loved Jon so much. Maybe it was that he cared for the statement givers with such humane compassion that you would hardly ever find it in another person. Maybe it was that he had to tuck stray hairs behind his ears when he went to sip his coffee. Maybe there was no specific reason.  
Whatever it was, Martin got a foul taste in his mouth from it. __

__Looking like his dad was a shock, certainly. Martin hadn’t looked at himself fully in a mirror for some time because of it. Just knowing he had been related to him had never been a real comfort, but coming to the realisation he looked like his father just made it worse. Not only that, but it gave him an unwelcome feeling of resentment for his mother. Martin knew he wasn’t perfect - he knew that all too well - and he had let himself believe his mother had a disdain for him because of that. But her hating him for resembling his father? It’s not as if he could control it, or that he had left his mother like his father had. It wasn’t something he could help, and yet his own mother, who he had helped since he was old enough to not scald himself washing dishes, could never see past that._ _

__Martin’s hand clenched around the handle of his tea as he watched the steam pool away from the brim. He thought about his mother a lot recently. He supposed he had the time to now.  
It filled his heart with worry at how angry he got about it, yet he found himself smiling. At least he felt _something _now.___ _

____Tim being dead, well... They hadn’t been particularly chatty for the last couple of months, but Martin had always considered him his closest friend. And losing your best friend like that, even if he had been short and irritable, had made Martin inconsolable for a good few weeks. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye, he hadn’t gotten a hand-held farewell as Tim slipped away, and he hadn’t gotten a comforting, lasting hug that could put him at ease. He got nothing._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The biggest question was, naturally, why _him _. Sure, he hadn’t been a miracle child, or some absolute saint, but he wasn’t deserving of _this _. And it wasn’t because of some stupid fear entity giving him a case of bad luck; it was just the way the dice were rolled, and he’d been dealt a rubbish hand._____ _ _ _

________It narrowed down to the fact that Martin had been cheated by life, and he wanted some control for at least a minute of it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________—————————_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Jon’s back,” Basira announced. Martin looked up from his desk, eyes blank. “Aren’t you-“_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Happy? Sure.”  
Basira blinked with surprise. She stepped into Martin’s office. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I thought you’d jump for joy at the news. Martin, are you alright?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m fine, Basira, thank you. But I need to get on with work right now.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Alright, fine, I just thought you’d want to know.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________His colleague began to leave before Martin remembered something._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Oh, Basira?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yes?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Tell Jon not to come here.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________———————_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Of course, Jon did turn up at Martin’s door a few weeks later. And why wouldn’t he? He was a host unto himself, after all, and had never understood the concept of “stay safe” and “I’m fine, Jon”._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Martin?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The use of his name made the lonely man jump. Nobody had visited him in a while - nobody who wasn’t Peter, at least, and even he was rare to come by. He looked back at his work when he learnt it was Jon who had walked in._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Hello, Jon. Are you alright?” Martin’s tone was flat, verging on bitter._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“As good as I can be after waking up from a coma.”  
He could see the weak smile Jon had on his face even without looking at him. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Martin, why didn’t you want to see me?”  
Martin could feel the threads of Jon’s Compelling tug at him, pulling at him. It was feeble, and not intentional, but it was there. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Because I don’t want to. I can’t... I can’t deal with you here.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________For one of the only times in his life, the Archivist had nothing to say. Jon stood there, mouth slightly open, not able to spit out any words._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What did you expect, Jon?” Martin finally met his gaze. He barked out a laugh. “You think I’d what? Beg you to stay here? You’ve been gone for six months. And I’ve grieved and I’ve coped for six months with all of this. You being gone, Tim being dead, Basira giving me pitiful looks whenever I see her - I’m done with all of it. I just want to be left alone for a while. Please, leave.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jon didn’t move. His feet were stuck in place, eyes not shifting from his.... his....  
‘Former coworker,’ Martin thought. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I said leave.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I miss you,” the Archivist blurted out. “I wish things could go back to how they were.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The taller of the two felt anger flood through him. He began speaking before he could stop himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“So you could yell at me for bringing my reports late? So you can complain on your little tapes about me? So you can feel a little bit better about yourself?” Martin left his desk, pacing around to stand in front of the meek man he was talking to. “I missed you, Jon, I did. And I tried so hard. And now you’re all about things going back to how they were?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jon looked down at his shoes, now the one unable to meet the unending stare of an ex-coworker. The taller man felt no compassion, but no pleasure either in seeing Jon like this. He looked weak._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Sordid._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Pathetic _.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Martin lifted Jon’s chin up to meet his eyes. Those eyes he had fallen in love with before all of this had happened._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Get the fuck out of my office.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________————————_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Well done, Martin.” The familiar voice of Peter Lukas drifted towards him through the fog. “You did very well-“_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Shut up. You’re always preaching about how I should isolate myself, so how about you leave as well?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m only here to congratulate you on your progress. You’re coming forth in leaps and bounds, after all.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Once again, Martin didn’t look up from his work. He stopped moving instead._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“It’s not as if I’m doing it for _you _,” he spat.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Peter smiled down at him, not a trace of malice behind his eyes. Just satisfaction. Pure, unadulterated satisfaction._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I know, Martin.” He patted his shoulder before the rolling fog surrounded him. “I know.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
